


time will come (and you will have to rise)

by aseaofwords



Series: we are the warriors (who built this town) [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Mpreg, Post-War, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 16:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aseaofwords/pseuds/aseaofwords
Summary: With Astocria defeated and Reyfara bustling peacefully, the king decides it's time to wed and bear heirs. The only problem? Nothing is happening, and there's a kid loose in the kingdom.Or,A trilogy





	time will come (and you will have to rise)

The kingdom was bustling with townsfolk, working and greeting one another on the streets and sidewalks. The pavements were hot from the summer sun, but it never stopped his people from being joyous.

He took a walk through the kingdom, something he hasn't done since before the war. His knight was by his side, as always, with Artemi and Alex following along.

His people welcomed his presence, waving and shouting hellos. Jonathan always nodded at them, a smile on his face. He loved his people with all his heart.

“My Lord,” Artemi asked Patrick softly, peeking out from behind the knight’s shoulders, “May Alex and I go to find families? We is miss them much.”

“We  _ miss them very much _ ,” Patrick corrected.

Artemi always had a struggle with grammar, having come from another kingdom entirely when he was twelve. Patrick would help him with words and phrases, correcting him if needed. Artemi was always very grateful.

“If it is alright with your king.” Patrick replied, and the three looked to Jonathan in silent question.

Jonathan nodded, “Alright. You may go.”

Artemi and Alex grinned at each other, grabbing hands and hurrying off. 

Jonathan called out to them, “Stay out of trouble!”

Patrick watched them go with a smile. “They're still so young. Only sixteen each.”

“Poverty is something I cannot fix, you know this,” the king sighed, “I could give all my money to the people, and within half a year, we'd all be brokers.”

“I know,” Patrick remarked, “It just troubles me. Their families all work so hard around the kingdom. I wish we could do more.”

“We have done all we can.” Jonathan assured, more for himself than his knight.

“I suppose.” 

They walked in silence, shaking hands with people passing by, taking in the scenery of the kingdom no longer stained in blood.

They stopped at a stand selling flowers, and Patrick bought a honeysuckle, a symbol of the bonds of love. He put it behind Jonathan’s ear, letting it rest there.

Jonathan blushed pink, blending with the tan of his cheeks.

They continued their walk through the kingdom, when suddenly, a young boy ran past, in between them, frantic and scared.

The men watched him flee, faster than either of them could run, and disappear over the hill.

“Should we go after him?” Patrick asked.

Jonathan didn't respond for a moment, before he said, “No, let him be. If there is trouble, he’ll be back.”

Patrick nodded, following the orders of his king.

°♤°♤°

Patrick waited outside the royal meeting room, where Jonathan, his mother, brother, and the royal advisors were currently discussing a matter that Patrick was apparently not allowed to hear. 

Jonathan seemed slightly put out when he went in, though, which is very concerning for Patrick.

In less than ten minutes since the meeting began, yelling erupted. After about half an hour had passed, the doors were slammed open and Jonathan stormed out, face red and jaw clenched. 

“Kane.” He growled, and Patrick immediately set forth to walk by him, not once looking back at the room.

Jonathan headed straight for his bedchamber. Patrick closed the doors behind him, turning to the king, who'd started pacing the room angrily.

“Jonathan?” The knight asked, worried, “What has happened?”

“My mother, that's what happened,” the king snapped, “The advisors! They've forced me into a marriage.”

Patrick’s blood turned ice. 

He couldn't form sentences, just watched as Jonathan paced left and right again. 

Patrick’s words were numb on his tongue. “With who?”

Jonathan snarled, as if what he was saying was venomous, poison, “The Queen of Wayvlanca.”

Patrick cringed. The Queen was beautiful no less, but strict and cruel to her people. No doubt she’d in some way bruise Jonathan’s pride, his image, destroy the kingdom he's worked so hard to keep safe.

“You're the king. They can't do this.” Patrick tried, but Jonathan shook his head.

“They'll overthrow me. Force off my crown, less they cut my head off with it.”

“I won't let them,” Patrick seethed, “Nothing will happen to you if I have any say in it.”

“But you don't,” Jonathan cried out, fists clenched and face blotchy red, “Don't you see? Unless I can find someone to wed me within the time of now to the forced wedding, I have to wed her.”

Patrick held up his hand. “Say that again?”

Jonathan looked at him strange. “If I can't find someone I want to wed, I have to marry the Queen of Wayvlanca.”

Patrick surged forward, pressing a hot, searing kiss to Jonathan’s lips, relief flowing through him in overwhelming amounts.

“That's it!” He exclaimed, pulling away, seeing Jonathan dazed and confused, “We can marry.” He took the king’s hands. “You and I. I am a Lord, still of high class, and know the kingdom and it's ways more than any suitor or queen that may come.”

Jonathan melted into Patrick’s touch, but frowned. “You know I would. Oh, how I would wed you in an instant. But my mother would never allow it. The advisors-”

“You're the king. You can fire them, hire new ones who agree with your way of thinking.”

“My mother-”

“Is no longer the queen. My love, don't you see? You and I can wed. I don't even have to be a king, if it's to your mother’s wishes. But I will be your partner, and we will be happy.”

Jonathan’s shoulders fell. “Heirs, Patrick.”

“Don't give me that horseshit,” the knight snapped, “All members of the royal family are able to bear children. That's why they became the royal family- magic and all that

You've done research.”

Jonathan’s face twisted.

Patrick’s smile dropped a little, “You didn't know?”

“My parents always told me I’d marry a woman,” Jonathan responded, eyes cast downward to their clasped hands, “No one ever said anything about me being able to bear children. My-my wife would be the one to give birth, never I.”

“Maternal instincts are already showing,” Patrick smiled small, “Why you're so good with children, why babes never cry in your presence. Magic, Jonathan, the gift that every royal born can produce heirs.”

“You say this is why my family became royal in the first place?” The king asked, hope suddenly filling his eyes. “We could have heirs. We could wed; you could be my  _ husband _ , Patrick-”

The blond laughed, eyes already filling with tears of joy. “Yes, my king. We could. We  _ can _ . We will.”

Jonathan beamed, and Patrick slid (not so) gracefully to a knee. He held the hands of his king and said, “Marry me?”

The king nodded, heart pounding in excitement, and when the two embraced, kissed, he knew that it wouldn't be the last. Not even close.

°♤°♤°

It took many battles and meetings with the royal family and advisors, including numerous threats of unemployment, for the group to agree (reluctantly, at that) that Patrick and Jonathan could marry.

Within five months, the two were wed. Almost everyone that wasn't attending the  wedding inside were gathered, watching from outside the palace.

They exchanged their vows, hands clutched tightly. 

Jonathan was dressed in his royal military outfit, medals and badges pinned to his chest, making him look much more intimidating than he really was. 

Patrick was dressed in his military regalia, material matching Jonathan’s, but colored grey instead, with different medals, but sword sheathed in the belt on his side, still on active duty if someone were to try to attack during the ceremony. He  _ was _ the head of Reyfara’s military, after all.

They enclosed their hands together and let the priest tie them together inside his robe, blessing their marriage under the powers of God. 

And then they were married, walking hand-in-hand out of the palace, onto the steps in front of Jonathan’s-  _ their _ people, and kissed, reveling in the feeling, in the excited cheering coming from the kingdom.

They were wed now, and nothing would come between them.

°♤°♤°

The boy showed up again.

Patrick was in the kingdom, tending to his knightly duties, which consisted of a walk around the town every two days. 

The boy had rounded a corner, coming out of nowhere. He ran face-first into Patrick’s legs, clad in metal armor. 

“Woah, slow down, kid,” the knight laughed, hands resting on the boy’s back, “Where are you running to so quickly?”

The boy grunted, trying to get away, and Patrick suddenly realised he was running from something, or someone, and it sent him on high-alert.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Patrick grabbed him by the arms so he didn't escape, “I am a knight, see? What's troubling you?”

A sudden shout came from down the dirt road, and a heavy man dressed in black with a white apron on came running towards them. The boy started struggling harder.

“Thank the Heavens!” The man exclaimed, pointing accusingly at the boy that had taken cover behind Patrick’s arm. He didn't look to be any more than six. “That little brat keeps stealing my bread!”

The boy whimpered, slithering behind the knight and hiding between his leg.

“Alright, everyone calm down,” Patrick ordered, “I'm sure he has nothing at home.”

The man continued to glare.

“I'll pay for what this boy has stolen, will that help?”

The man huffed, but nodded, “That will do fine.”

Patrick fished out his bag of money and paid the man for the stolen pieces of bread. The man grunted, before heading back where he came from.

When Patrick was sure he was gone, he turned around, still holding onto the boy. He crouched down, making him close to level with the boy.

“Hi,” he smiled, “My name is Patrick. What's yours?”

The boy stared back at him, petrified. 

“I won't hurt you,” Patrick tried, “I'm a knight, and the husband of King Jonathan. If anyone is trying to harm you, I will keep you safe.”

The boy said nothing, then glanced over Patrick’s shoulder. He gasped, and Patrick turned quickly, only to find no one was around.

He looked back to see the boy speeding off.

“Hey, wait!” Patrick called out, chasing after him.

But the boy was too quick. He skittered into a bush and disappeared. 

°♤°♤°

“Do you remember that boy we ran into a handful of weeks ago?” Patrick asked his husband that night while they dressed for bed, “The one that ran by us?”

Jonathan nodded, “Yes, I remember. What of him?”

“I ran into him again, earlier today during my walkthrough.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. He was running from a baker, this time, at least. He'd stolen some bread. He looked as if he hasn't eaten in decades.”

“Why did you not bring him to the castle?” Jonathan asked him, face twisted up, “If he restored to stealing food, he must not have much at home.”

“He ran off before I could,” Patrick sighed, “I chased after him, but he just- disappeared.”

Jonathan frowned. “I'm sure we’ll see him again.”

Patrick nudged the king into the bed, then folded himself on top of him, snuggled under the covers. 

Patrick’s fingers sprawled over Jonathan’s belly. “Do you want to try tonight?” 

Jonathan leaned back into the pillow,  closing his eyes as he focused on Patrick’s hands groping every inch of his torso. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah, let's do it.”

Patrick grinned and yanked the covers over them.

°♤°♤°

Weeks passed. The boy didn't show up again, and sadly, Jonathan’s womb remained barren.

The couple tried countless times, and eventually, two months had gone by without conceiving.

“We have plenty of time,” Patrick would reassure him each time the royal physician told them Jonathan still wasn't with child, “Months and years still. We will get a babe out of you, I promise.”

Jonathan and Patrick spent most of their time in the kingdom now. The king enjoyed meeting his people, playing with the children that adored him so. Patrick, being his knight just as much as his husband, always accompanied him. 

Currently, the king and consort were talking with an older married couple by a trading booth in the bustling little kingdom. 

“It's just so nice now that the war’s ended,” the woman smiled at the king, “People aren't scared to leave their houses anymore.”

Jonathan smiled back at her, “It's just a relief that the bloodshed can end, and-”

The sound of crying broke through the air, catching the king’s attention. He cleared his throat, “-and that soldiers can return...return home…”

He glanced around, trying to find the source of the crying, “I'm sorry. Excuse me a moment.”

He quickly went off, looking around stands and bushes, searching the sound of the sobs.

It took awhile, but he found the child curled up next to an abandoned stand, crying into his hands. The child was a skinny thing, knee was scraped up and bleeding a good bit.

Jonathan knelt to a knee in front of him. The boy looked up at the sound and  _ oh _ , it was the little boy they kept running into.

His baby blue eyes filled with fear, black, uncut hair tousled in knots and falling into his face. He was shaking, probably cold in the November winds.

“Hi there. Please don't be afraid,” Jonathan crooned as gently as he could, “My name is Jonathan; I am the king. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy was silent, staring at Jonathan, petrified. 

Jonathan bit his lip. “You scraped your knee?” He asked, trying to find a new angle to approach.

The boy slowly, hesitantly, nodded. 

“I bet it hurts, huh?” 

Another timid nod.

Jonathan unclipped his cape, red silk soft in the grips of his fingers. “May I?”

The boy didn't respond, but Jonathan proceeded anyways. He draped the cape around the shoulders of the boy from his back, curling it around to his front. He used a corner to gently dab at the blood, then twisted it carefully around the boy’s knee.

“If you come with me, we can fix up your knee nicely,” the king reasoned, “I'll even get you some food. Do you have a family to go to?”

The boy shook his head quickly, and he whimpered, backing up closer to the stand.

“Alright, alright, it's alright,” Jonathan soothed, holding out his hands, “I can take you to the castle? Get you into some warm clothes, have a meal prepared for you, clean your scrape. Maybe you can sleep. Does that sound good?”

The boy watched Jonathan cautiously, nervous, but nodded. He slowly held out his hand, and Jonathan took it. It was so small in his own, and so, so cold.

Jonathan leaned forward on his knee and gathered the boy in his arms. He situated him in the cape, covering him up as much as he could to keep him warm. 

The king went off in search of his husband, finding him still talking with the old couple. Patrick saw him coming in his peripheral vision, but the smile he wore faltered when seeing the child bundled in his king’s arms.

“What's this?”

“The boy we continued to meet,” the royal replied, “He’s hurt his knee, and he's freezing. We’re taking him back to the castle.”

His voice was stern, the voice he used when handling royal matters, and it left no room for arguing. Patrick bid farewell to the couple and hurried by Jonathan’s side, who was already making his way home.

The boy was asleep by the time they made it through the doors. One of his small hands waa fisted in Jonathan’s white shirt, his head leaning against his chest.

“Should I call for the physician?” Patrick asked, voice quiet as to not wake the child.

“No. It's only a scrape. I would clean these all the time. We’ll only call the physician if it gets infected.” The king responded and turned to go to the bedchamber.

He gently laid the boy on the bed. “Go find Artemi and Alex. Tell Alex to find some spare children’s clothes, and Artemi to run a warm bath.”

Patrick went to do so, and Jonathan went to the bathroom to find the bandages and alcohol.

He entered back in the chamber just as the boy stirred. Jonathan smiled small at him. “Hello, again.”

The boy sniffled helplessly. 

Jonathan held up the supplies. “I'm going to clean your knee, alright? It might sting a little.”

“You may hold my hand, if you'd like.” Patrick suddenly appeared in the chamber, Artemi in tow. 

The knight’s page went to the bath to run it while Patrick knelt by the bed next to the boy. He held out his hand, and the boy hesitantly squeezed it. Jonathan was right; he was freezing.

Jonathan made quick work of cleaning the scrape, and soon, he was bandaging it up. “There we go. All done. You were very brave.”

The boy smiled shyly.

“You remember me, don't you?” Patrick questioned, and the child nodded.

“Y-you’re Patrick.”

The knight beamed, “That's right, bud. I'm Patrick. What's your name?”

The boy bit his lip nervously. “William.”

Jonathan smiled softly at the boy. “It's nice to meet you, William. How old are you?”

The boy held up five fingers.

“Can I ask you something, that might be a little hard for you?” Patrick squeezed the little boy’s hand reassuringly.

William nodded and sniffled again.

“What happened? Why did you steal that bread from the baker?”

William looked to the cape still wrapped protectively around him. “I have no home.”

“Where are you from?” The knight pressed.

William’s eyes watered. “Please, do not kill me. I had to leave!” Tears began to fall from his eyes, and Jonathan was quick to scoop the child up and rock him.

“No, no, we would never kill an innocent.” The king hushed him softly, running a hand through William’s hair. “Why on earth would you think we would?”

“K-King Claude said-” William sobbed, “He said you'd kill anyone from Astocria.”

Patrick interrupted Jonathan before he could reply, “If you were afraid of us, why did you come here?”

William rubbed his eyes. “My father got sick. He died a few months ago. They tried to take me away! So I ran. I was just gonna pass through, I swear! I didn't-I didn't mean to! I was so hungry. I'm sorry-”

“Hush now,” Jonathan said, continuing to rock William soothingly, “King Claude has lied to your people. I would never allow innocent Astocrians to be killed, especially children. War crimes are one thing, but you've hurt no one, correct?”

William shook his head. “No. Father always said it was wrong to hurt people.”

“Your father was a smart man,” Patrick smiled.

“Yes, and because you've brought no harm to others,” the king remarked, “then no one has a reason to kill you. Do you understand, my child?”

William rested his head against Jonathan. “Yes, sir.”

Jonathan ran a soothing hand down William’s back. “You're going to stay here in the castle tonight, alright? You'll be safe here.”

William looked up from Jonathan’s soft white shirt he'd snuggled into, and held out his pinky. “Promise?”

Jonathan wrapped his own pinky around William’s. “Promise.”

°♤°♤°

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Patrick asked him later that night, as they laid together in their bed. “What if King Claude becomes angry we've taken one of his kingdom’s children?”

“You heard the boy, he has no family,” Jonathan responded, “King Claude has no right to take him back if he's safe with us, and he has no relation to the king.”

“But what if he does?” Patrick pressed on worriedly. “What if William lied? What if he has relations to the king, and he was too frightened of him to stay?”

“It is just another reason for William to stay with us. If he was too frightened to be in Astocria, to be with the king, he shouldn't be there at all. Astocria is crumbling from the inside out now that the war is over. He's safer here, and here he shall stay.”

Patrick sighed, but pulled his husband closer, resting his head on his shoulder. “Is he our son, now?”

“I suppose that will be up to him.” The king frowned, “If he wishes to be, then yes, he will be ours. If not, we can find him a family, either the in the kingdom or within the palace, to care for him.”

Patrick kissed Jonathan’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “You do know that even if William becomes our boy, we will keep trying for a babe?”

Jonathan smiled small, “I just hope we succeed.”

“We will,” Patrick assured, “I know we will.”

°♤°♤°

The couple was in the middle of a meeting when Jonathan suddenly felt ill. 

He put a hand on Patrick’s arm, saying, “I need a moment,” then hurried off up the stairs again. He made a beeline to the washroom and closed the door, leaning against it.

He took deep, careful breaths, trying to calm his angry stomach. But they did nothing to help. Jonathan quickly opened a window and leaned out of it. He dry heaved for a bit before throwing up. 

A warm, comforting hand rested on Jonathan’s back, in between his shoulder blades, then down the middle. After a minute or so, Jonathan finally caught his breath. He spit half a dozen times, then slid back into the washroom. 

Patrick was at the ready, a warm rag in hand. He wiped Jonathan’s mouth, chin, then took the unused side and wiped under his eyes were two salty tears had escaped.

“Oh, my king,” the consort cooed, “Are you ill?”

Jonathan took a breath through his nose, leaning into the palm his husband pressed against his forehead. “I feel fine now. It must have been that heartburn again. You know how it angers my stomach.”

Patrick hummed in thought. “I suppose. Still, go lie down for a bit. I'll have the chef bring you some soup, just in case.”

Jonathan nodded. “Alright, and check on William? Artemi was out in the gardens with him, the last time I saw them.”

Patrick kissed Jonathan’s cheek. “Consider it done.”

°♤°♤°

It took a couple weeks for the royal to get an answer, what with the boy being hesitant, and still somewhat frightened of King Claude and his warnings.

But one day, William came barreling into the castle, pale as a sheet and terrified, as if he'd just seen a ghost.

He ran straight for the throne room, where Jonathan and Patrick were discussing matters with the generals. 

The doors slammed open, and the little boy ran through them, right to Jonathan. He hid in the king’s cape, arms desperately wrapped around the elder’s leg as he tried to make himself smaller than he already was. He was trembling, whimpering and sniffling, staring at the door in fear.

Jonathan kept his hands on William, to keep him near, while Patrick knelt in front of him and tried to calm him down.

Jonathan turned to Keith and Crawford sharply, “Check the doors. Make sure no one is trying to attack.”

The generals hurried off to do as they were told, leaving the men alone with William.

Patrick was able to coax the boy out from the cape, and William walked straight into Patrick’s arms. His nose nuzzled against Patrick’s neck, seeking comfort. 

Jonathan put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, the other on William’s back. “What's happened, my child?”

William whimpered, “I-I saw- I saw the woman who-who owns the children’s shelter in Astocria. She recognized me. She-she chased me!” He started crying, shaking violently in Patrick’s arms. “Please don't let her get me!”

Patrick shushed him, pressing his face to his shoulder while he rubbed his back. “She cannot hurt you here. We will not allow her to. Isn't that right, my king?”

“That woman will have my head before she has you.” Jonathan promised.

William reached out a hand and grasped the red cape, keeping Jonathan close.

Jonathan kissed the top of his head, messy hair tickling his nose. “You're our boy now, right William? You're my precious prince.”

William nodded wordlessly, desperately hanging onto the men before him.

Keith and Crawford were able to chase the woman out of the kingdom. Why she was there at all, neither knew. 

The royals didn't care, though, as they sat curled up by the fire that night, finally content.

°♤°♤°

The summer festival was something the entire kingdom looked forward to. 

Owners of stands in the marketplace would reduce their prices by half. The castle would be open to the public, dining hall filled with baked goods and a dinner fit for all the rulers of ever country come together. At the end of the night, the people would gather by the waterfront and watch the fireworks as the sun disappeared.

This time, however, most people were more eager to meet the new prince than feast, it seemed. 

The people gathered in the dining hall turned to the stairwell as Sharp and Seabrook descended it.

“People of Reyfara, I present to you, King Jonathan, King Consort Patrick, and the newest addition to the royal family, Prince William.”

The family stood at the top of the stairwell, and Jonathan grinned when his people cheered in excitement. William, who was perched on Jonathan’s hip, waved down at the crowd.

The royal family made their way to greet everyone. The people gushed over William, immediately taking a liking to him. 

“He’s adorable, your highness.” A peasant woman cooed.

William hid his face in Jonathan’s shoulder, suddenly bashful.

“Oh, don't be that way,” Patrick laughed, tapping William’s cheek until he looked up again. “There he is.”

William grinned.

The night continued. People would help themselves to the food in the castle and those selling outside. 

William had been transferred between Jonathan and Patrick’s arms all day, but soon he was squirming to get down. He ran off to Artemi and Alex, who were laughing by the drinks with their families.

Artemi swung the boy up into the air and tickled his side, Alex attacking the other. His squeals of laughter rang out through the room. It sent a fit of warmth through the royals.

As the sun began to set, the pages readied to set up for the fireworks. Jonathan’s family and his people settled on the beach, some in the water. They stared at the sky expectantly. 

William was by their feet, standing in the water excitedly. He'd never been to the beach before. One of each of their hands was holding onto each William’s shoulders to keep him from getting pulled out or drowning.

The fireworks started to explode in the sky, and William shrieked with delight.

Jonathan took Patrick’s hand, smiling at him, soft and delicate. Patrick kissed his lips lovingly, humming. 

But the night wasn't over yet. 

William soon got tired. Jonathan scooped him up, cradling him. William put his head on Jonathan’s shoulder and fell asleep.

Patrick closed out the festival when the show was over. The people started going back to their homes, and Patrick led Jonathan back to the castle, a hand on the small of his back. 

The king headed for the study, where Alex had already started a fire in the small fireplace against the wall. Jonathan took one of the blankets and laid William on the couch by the fire, draping the blanket over him. 

“Is there any reason we aren't putting him in his room?” Patrick asked, a small smile on his face as Jonathan came forward and interlocked their hands. 

“I just wanted a nice family night.” The king replied.

Patrick quirked his eyebrows, taking a step closer so their bodies were pressed against each other. “Oh?”

Jonathan smiled. “Patrick, I'm with child.”

Patrick stopped.

“You're  _ what? _ ”

Jonathan took Patrick’s hand and rested it on his abdomen. “I went to see the royal physician two nights ago. He confirmed it for me. I'm with child.”

Slowly, a grin spread across Patrick’s cheeks. “A babe? We’re going to have a babe?”

Jonathan matched his grin. “Yes, darling. We are.”

Patrick kissed him, deep and excited. “This-this is wonderful! The kingdom will be overjoyed.”

His thumbs rubbed circles on Jonathan’s abdomen through his shirt. By God, he loved his life.

°♤°♤°

“Hurry along,” Patrick called into the prince’s bedchamber, “I need to get back to the king.”

“Coming, my Lord.” Artemi responded, then opened the door, William in his arms. 

Patrick took his son, and William grinned up at the blond. “Father, are we going to see Papa now?”

Patrick ruffled his hair. “We sure are.” He made his way down the stairs and through the halls, hands still shaking from the nerves of the delivery. 

“Is my baby sibling with him?” William asked, eager.

Patrick laughed, “Yes, William.” He made it to the door of his and Jonathan's bedchamber, knocked, then pushed the door open.

Jonathan was in the bed, sweaty and exhausted, but beaming. There was a bundle swaddled up in his arms that he was cooing down at.

William jumped down from his father’s arms and rushed to the bed, ignoring the physician’s stern look.

Jonathan turned to the young prince with a smile. “There's my boy.” He reached a hand down to card his hand through William’s soft hair. “Were you good for Artemi?”

William nodded. “Yes, Papa. Very good!” He stood on his tiptoes to see the babe in Jonathan’s arms. “Is that the baby?”

Patrick nodded and hoisted William onto the bed. 

“His highness needs his rest.” The physician sighed, but Patrick waved his hand in dismissal, “And rest he will get, I assure you. But that does not mean he cannot see his family. Now leave us, please. We will call for you if we need anything.”

The physician rolled his eyes but bowed, knowing better than to irritate the king consort- irritate a knight.

William peered over Jonathan’s arm curiously.

Jonathan moved the blanket back so William could see the face of his new sibling. “Meet your little sister- Aimee.”

William waved.

Patrick laughed and sat next to his husband. His hand came down to cup Aimee’s cheek, thumb caressing her soft, chubby cheek. 

“Let's have another.”

  
“ _ Patrick _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want this series to end ahhh. If anyone has ideas or something they want to see the royal family do or go through or whatever, please let me know!


End file.
